


little things

by jdphoenix



Series: things to do [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:48:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all of Coulson's secrets are in the Toolbox, and Gonzales is determined to find what Jemma's been hiding for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little things

**Author's Note:**

> A couple months ago I was asked for a follow-up to "things to do" and posted a quick drabble over on tumblr. I was never really happy with it because it doesn't comply with my own vision for how that 'verse goes and I mostly posted it to get rid of the itch "things to do" left me. _This fic_ , however, is in line what what I'd imagined. So if you happened to catch that drabble, don't expect this to follow it at all. If you didn't see it, you're good to go.

“Simmons?” Weaver calls. Her tone is gentle enough but Jemma can’t help a surge of annoyance at the sound of her voice. Weaver has been kind and friendly with just a touch of her old professorly superiority through all of this. It’s incredibly grating.

Jemma turns from her work bench slowly, making certain to appear as though she’s being pulled from the greatest scientific discovery of the decade when, in truth, the only thing she’s been cleared to work on is cracking the fake Toolbox.

If Weaver notices the disrespect, she makes no sign of it. “With me,” she says and turns on her heel, fully expecting Jemma to follow.

She allows herself a moment to imagine hurling the Toolbox at Weaver’s head and then, with a sigh, does as ordered and falls into step behind her.

She hates this. Coulson’s on the run. Skye’s missing. May’s still on that blasted ship. Fitz is gone - presumably after Coulson - and Jemma wishes more than anything she’d gone as well. She wants to be  _home_ , far from the Playground, instead of trapped here while these invaders crawl all over every inch of it like some traitorous infestation. And she was allowed the freedom to go, same as Fitz was, but she has no illusions this pretend SHIELD would just let her walk away. So here she’s stayed, unable to move back or forward, waiting for Coulson to make his triumphant return.

It’s taking a _very_ long time. She knows spy armies don’t grow on trees, but is it so much to ask she be saved within the week?

“Agent Simmons,” Robert Gonzales greets when she enters Coulson’s office. He’s leaning against the man’s desk as though he owns it - owns the entire base - and it takes a great deal of self-control to keep her hatred off her face. “I was hoping you might be able to clear up a few things for us.”

“And what might those be?” she asks, well aware of the poisonously sweet tone of her voice.

“Where have you been for the past year?”

She blinks. That’s a very broad span of time, especially in their profession. “I’ve been any number of places,” she says airily. “This base, for one.”

“But only for the last few weeks, since Coulson’s misadventure in San Juan.”

Jemma bristles at that. It was hardly a misadventure. Trip lost his _life_ in San Juan, an event which would have been completely unnecessary if these people hadn’t hidden their vast resources.

“Yes,” she agrees, “Coulson felt he needed me on site to see to Skye.”

“And before that, he didn’t need you ‘on site’?”

“No. I’m a biochemist. So long as I have a lab I can do my work virtually anywhere.” To accompany her dismissive tone, she looks away from Gonzales and feels the blood drain from her face when she spots the image on the wide screen taking up an entire wall of Coulson’s office.

“Yes,” Gonzales agrees, “you can, can’t you? Even in an old apartment building.”

That’s her block on the screen, accompanied by varied views of her building, many of them blocked by the armored agents milling about in the pre-dawn shadows.

“What has Coulson had you working on, Agent Simmons? What was so important he had to hide you away more than a thousand miles from this base?”

“What are you doing?” she asks, ignoring the question. “What are they-”

“You know _exactly_ what they’re doing, Jemma,” Weaver says, some of her friendliness gone. “If you won’t tell us what it is Coulson’s hiding here, we’ll have to find out for ourselves.”

Jemma whirls to face Gonzales. “That is a _civilian_ building. More than thirty people live there.”

“Really?” Gonzales asks, seemingly unconcerned. “Because I know of at least one would-be civilian living there who isn’t at all. How am I to know any of those people are genuinely who they appear to be.”

“Most of them are children!” Jemma yells, advancing on Gonzales. He doesn’t even flinch.

“And we’ll do our best not to harm them, but we need to know what Coulson’s been up to.”

Jemma lets out the ugly sound that’s been caught in her throat for days.

“We know you trust him,” Gonzales goes on steadily, “but there are things he’s kept from you-”

“He’s the director of bloody _SHIELD_. His entire job is keeping secrets!”

“-and in time you’ll understand why this was necessary, but right now you have a choice to make. Do you tell us what’s hidden in this building or do we find out for ourselves?”

Jemma’s heart clenches and she turns back to the screens, wishing she could will the soldiers gone. Right now, her neighbors will be waking up, some will soon be leaving the building for their early shifts. Mrs. Valencia in the apartment next to Jemma’s is probably already up with little Abigail. She’s barely three months old.

“Agent Simmons?” Gonzales prods.

“I want you to know,” Jemma says evenly, “I’m going to make you pay for this.”

“ _Jemma_ ,” Weaver says sharply. Jemma ignores her and turns to pin Gonzales with her most scathing look.

He sighs like an overwrought father. “All right then. Have it your-”

“It’s better if I show you.”

She has the distinct pleasure of watching the arrogant bastard’s mouth hang open around his next words.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Not only the secret itself but access?”

He manages to recover himself well enough to manage a somewhat shaky, “Yes.”

Jemma moves for the door. “You brought plenty of jump jets with you when you took the base. I imagine there are pilots as well? Tell one I’ll be in the hangar in five.” She doesn’t bother waiting to be dismissed. If Gonzales needs more from her, he can bloody well chase after her.

 

 

&&&&&

 

 

Jemma returns sixteen hours later. It’s been an incredibly long day - two flights, two _moves_ (they couldn’t very well park the jump jet on the street to move her things into, so it all had to be put in a hastily acquired moving van and then loaded onto the plane), and it’s not over yet.

There’s some sort of meeting going on when Jemma enters Coulson’s office, but she doesn’t much care about that. She doesn’t even much care that May has finally returned. The only thing she _does_ care about is staring wide-eyed at all the new faces.

“Well, _fuck_ ,” that odious Calderon says - and promptly balks when Jemma levels him with a stern look. Cursing is unacceptable while her daughter is in the room.

“Simmons,” May says, stepping forward.

Abigail makes a delighted noise and bounces on Jemma’s hip. “Yes, dear,” Jemma says, angling her towards May so she might get a better look, “this is your Aunt Melinda.” She puts a slight question in the statement - May of course has the right to refuse such a nickname, but she only smiles and steps closer to offer her hand for inspection. Abigail grips her thumb and pinkie tight.

“Strong grip,” May says and it sounds like the highest praise.

Jemma rests her forehead against Abigail’s skull, soaking in some of her warmth. Her daughter is a treasure and it’s clear May recognizes as much immediately.

“Agent Simmons,” Gonzales snaps. Of all the agents in the room, he was the only one who showed no reaction to her arrival. They all must have known - the team on site no doubt radioed in immediately when they discovered the truth of why Jemma has been in hiding - but he alone was able to steel himself against the proof of how utterly wrong he was.

“This,” she says, ignoring whatever he might be about to say, “is Abigail Simmons, my daughter. Coulson was kind enough to provide us with a secure location in which to live, where I might still be of some use to SHIELD via phone calls and video chats and the like. He offered to allow us to go completely into hiding, but I didn’t think I could ever face Abigail if I had abandoned my friends, abandoned SHIELD. How could I raise her after hiding away the most valuable resource I can offer?”

She allows those words to sink in a moment and Gonzales, for all his bluster, only seethes silently.

“As we’ve been robbed of our safe haven and her existence is now widely known, we’ll need somewhere new to stay. I’ll need larger quarters on base. Thirty-two B should do nicely. And now Abigail needs to be fed, so if you’ll excuse me.”

More than one voice tries to stop her - Gonzales actually yells loudly enough that Abigail hides her face in Jemma’s shoulder and that does get her to stop.

“ _That_ ,” she says firmly but not cruelly - there is Abigail to consider, “will be the _last_ time that happens. You have forced me to expose my daughter to innumerable dangers, you will _not_ aggravate her on top of it. Are we clear, Mr. Gonzales?”

“If you think you can order me around, young lady-”

“She can,” May says coolly. “You gave me command of the Playground, remember? And so long as Simmons is based here, she has the final say on all things concerning Abigail. End of discussion.”

“Thank you,” Jemma says and this time leaves without looking back.

 


End file.
